Letting Go
by CrazyBeCat
Summary: Carlton usually can come to term with death because he deals with it every day. Is there a reason why he can't now? One-Shot.


**A/N: Here is a Psych one-shot that I've been sitting on for a while, and thought I would post. For those of you who read my Castle work: I WILL HAVE CHAPTER SIX OF **_LOVE YOU THROUGH IT _**up tomorrow. :D WOO! I just don't have enough time tonight to get it up cause I've got to get some sleep cause I have to be up early.  
>Anyway. Hope you enjoy.<br>CrazyBeCat **

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><p>Letting Go.<p>

"Carlton? Why are you refusing to talk? It's not going to help you get back to work."

"I don't need to talk! I need to get back to work!"

"Why can't you talk about it? What is so hard for you to talk about?"

"Because I'm fine. I need to go back to work," he growled.

"She died. You held her in your arms as she took her last breath. She had three bullet holes in her chest, Carlton, and she bled out onto your suit."

"I deal with this all the time."

"I know. I also know that you suppress emotions all the time as well. What hurts the most about her death?"

"That she's gone. Are you happy? Can you give me the damn clearance now?" Carlton said, frustration in his voice.

"No, because I don't think you are fit to return to work yet. It's not my fault you're in denial."

"I'm not in denial! I know she's gone!"

"Do you? You won't talk about her, about what happened. You haven't said her name since you've been coming to see me, and you haven't told me that she's dead."

"Because you already know!"

"You haven't said the word death, or dead, or died, once since you've been coming to see me. That's a sign that you aren't ready. You've been telling me that you know she's gone. Gone is simply a word used to deny her being dead. Gone could imply, out of state, or on vacation. Carlton, let the pain come, let the healing process begin. She is not simply gone, Carlton, she was torn out of the lives of many. Shot in the line of duty, saving the lives of one of your own colleagues. Died with honor, with respect from thousands. The cemetery was packed with people saying their good-byes and blessings. She's dead Carlton, not simply gone."

"I was there," he replied to the therapist patiently, "I know very well that she won't be coming back," Carlton swallowed hard.

"Then tell me. Stop suppressing it, stop lying to yourself. Just because you know doesn't mean you're ready to go back to work. Let it hit you hard, so you can begin to heal. Then I'll actually consider a day you'll be able to go back."

"I need to go back."

"You think you can handle it? Her stuff still there for it hasn't been removed yet. Her desk empty, for there hasn't been a replacement yet. Her picture hanging on the wall as a symbol of honor for the act she did to save so many people's lives. She's dead, Carlton an-"

"Stop it! Stop it, dammit!" Carlton swept a vase off onto the carpet, where it shattered into several pieces, but the therapist didn't even bat an eyelash as she spoke.

"Stop? Stop what?"

"Just stop! Let me go back to work!"

"Allow yourself to heal. You have to tell yourself that she's dead, or you'll be stuck in the position you're in for a long, long time. Come to the reality of the situation, come to terms with why it's so hard for you to let her go. Three words, is all it takes to start."

"Go… to… hell…" he growled, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

The therapist frowned, "How could I give you clearance if I went to hell? All the other therapists refuse to work with you. They won't give you clearance either."

"Then give me the damn clearance before you go!"

"Why is it so hard for you to accept it? What is keeping you from saying she's dead?"

A long silence settled over the room as he stared at her coldly, his lips still, but his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, forcing himself to remain calm. The clock ticked away a good three minutes before he broke eye contact and mumbled something inaudibly as he ran the back of his hand across his face.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What was it you said?"

He muttered something again, a little louder, but still inaudible.

The therapist raised an eyebrow and sighed, "I still can't hear what you're saying."

"Dammit! I was in love with her! OK? I was in love with Karen Vick! And now she'll never know!"


End file.
